A Twist of Faith
by Merovia
Summary: Set after the ending of GWTW or is it? Read to find out. NOW UPDATED!
1. Chapter 1

Even before Rhett Butler opened his eyes that morning he knew that something was fundamentally different. After he had left his home, hopefully for good this time, last night, he had gone with his back not directly to the train station as he had initially intended but instead to Belle Watlings place. Scarlett's profession of love had after all taken his toll on him. Even if no longer loved her, her words still resonated with him, and he had needed the numbing comfort that only liberal amounts of alcohol can bring. He sighed. Funnily enough though he didn't fell like it was a bad case of hangover he suffered from, but something was still oddly different. He tryingly opened his eyes, and quickly shut them again. The light pouring in through a window almost blinded his tired eyes. He slowly opened them again, this time taking in the room he was in.

Where the hell was he?

Had he after all been even more drunk than he had believed? And perhaps in the process charmed and bedded on of Belle's lovely alluring ladies? He doubted it though, And he sure couldn't have derived much pleasure from such an encounter had it indeed taken place as he didn't have the faintest recollection of it. He would also be surprised if he had been able to perform at all. No that couldn't be it! Another thing that also defied this notion was that the room he was in didn't look remotely like that of a well paid whore. The room was far to elegant and well scrubbed, not even a hint of decadence in the room bar perhaps his unscrubbed self he added in his mind with a hint of a smile.

To be quite honest the room looked a fair bit more like something that belonged in his mothers house in Charleston. But that couldn't be it either. He would sure have some sort of memory of his travel if he had ventured on the long tedious train ride to Charleston in the middle of the night. He eyed the room more closely, suspiciously taking in every detail of the room. If it hadn't been an absolutely ridiculous notion he would have said he was in Scarlett's old bedroom back at Tara. But for his life he couldn't think of even one single reason for him to be there. Let alone how the hell he would have gotten there in the dark hours of the night. Tara wasn't really what you would call a well connected place for night time transportation.

He dismissed the idea at once.

Well, there was only one way to find out. He looked around for the rest of his clothes or his luggage but couldn't find them anywhere. Strange. Fortunately he had fallen asleep still in his pant and shirt. So whatever he had done last night it had at least not involved any ripping off of clothes which was lucky as he now at least would look decent enough to investigate what had happened to the rest of his clothes. Crumbled from sleeping in his clothes, but nobody at Belles would raise even an eyebrow at that. A slight tease at the most, and he guessed he deserved that for drinking himself that far into oblivion.

Perhaps somebody had put them in the large wardrobe occupying most of the end wall?

He carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He still felt very odd, but couldn't clearly identify the cause. And sat still for a moment leaning his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes as if to somehow force a remembrance of what exactly had transpired last night. Most of what came to mind was images of a strange gentleman he had spoken to for a large part of the evening. He still had no ideas as to what the topic of the conversation had been. Well never mind it would surely come back to him later. Perhaps he should ask Belle who the gentleman had been as he might be able to fill in the blanks in Rhett's foggy brain.

He slowly got up steadying himself on the bedpost. Even if he wasn't hung over as such he still didn't feel to hot. Midmotion he paused as he caught a flickr of movement out the corner of his eyes. He quickly turned around to see if somebody was in the room with him afterall. Perhaps his initial notion had been correct and he had indeed had a girl with him.

When he realised what he had seen he shook his head. How foolish he was. It was simply a mirror hanging on the wall almost hidden in the corner of the room. His movement had of course been reflected in it. From where he stood he couldn't see himself in the full length mirror. That he thought might be his luck as he was sure to look a frightful mess. On a second thought however he contemplated, it might be wiser for him to face up to the harsh realities of his appearance before braving the world outside the confinement of this room. He covered the length of the room in one long stride.

When his eyes caught his reflections in the mirror Rhett Butler did something he had never done before. He screamed loudly, for a moment he felt close to fainting. As he scrambled hastily backwards still screaming he fell over the bed and tumbled down on top of the covers. He lifted his hand and starred at it intently. His breathing slowly eased up as he took in the familiar shape and lines of his hand, slowly tracing the lines of his palm with his other hands index finger as to verify that it was really there. He must have been more heavily intoxicated than he could even imagine for his brain to play such a dirty trick on him.

He slowly got up again, and reluctantly edged closer to the mirror. Telling himself that it had just been his imagination, but still bracing him for what he might see.

He looked at his feet, which still had their familiar form and slowly lifted his gaze to the mirror. As he took in the image that met his eyes he almost screamed out again.

He must still be dreaming, that was the only reasonable explanation. That or he had finally lost his mind. He shook his head as if to force himself to awaken, but it didn't help and it surely did nothing to change the reflection he saw in the mirror.

He reached out and the figure in the mirror did the same, meeting each other at the solid surface of the mirror. He slowly moved his hand back to his face feeling the familiar stubble under his hand. The figure in the mirror did the same, only difference was that the cheek in the mirror was soft and smooth.

He breathed in deeply in order to keep the panic at bay.

His reflection was at the same time completely familiar yet foreign to him. It was a face and a body he had hoped not to see again for a long, long time. He was… It was Scarlett's face he saw when he looked in the mirror – it was all to strange to take in. How could it be? All logic defied that it could be true, but it seemed so eerily real. He was her.

Before he had time to put better words on this absurd unreal situation a scrambling noise from the hallway demanded his attention. He sure hoped it wasn't Belle, if her establishment was indeed were he still was. He didn't know what to believe and didn't know what other people would see when they looked at him. His mind reelled and he felt like screaming again. How could this happen? No logic could explain it. He still desperately hoped that he was dreaming, but a nagging feeling told him that this was indeed happening. But how, what, why??????

The footsteps in the hall came closer, a familiar voice penetrated the wood of the door.

"Miz Scarlett, can you hear me? Miz Scarlett is you alright"

Rhett felt the panic sneaking up on him again as he recognised Mammy's voice. Did it mean that he was at Tara? How the hell would he explain his presence here? And would Mammy even recognise him? Or would she see the same as he saw in the mirror. Rhett who had braved various dangers both before and during the war shrank back at the thought of being faced with Mammy's anger. Especially in a situation where he felt so utterly at loss as he did now. Well, there was no time to consider or to do anything to prevent the confrontation.

The door creaked open and revealed Mammy's large frame. She looked younger than he remembered; perhaps she had flourished from the air of Tara that also always had seemed to hold healing powers over Scarlett. Just as the door swung open he felt a rippling sensation going through his body, and when he looked down his crumbled shirt and trousers had been replaced by a simple frilled nightgown and his body had taken the shape of his wife.

He gasped.

Mammy cast him a suspicious glance.

"What is going on me lamb, yo screamed and screamed scarring the whole house"

Rhett didn't know what to answer, and he remained silent trying to take in this twisted reality that he was currently part of. How could he be here at Tara in his wife's body? He started to shake violently and he felt tears spring to his eyes. Apparently this new body he was in had a different threshold for watery eyes than his own.

"My lamb, what's d matter with yo, has somethin' happen'd, come now come now, you know yo can tell old Mammy everythin"

Mammy walked up to him and patted him on the shoulder.

"Now now, don't yo cry – yo gotta look pwetty for the party to day – no teary eyes that can set tounges wagging – now, now. Mist Ashley ist not worth crying for"

At those words Rhett tensed visibly. Why was Mammy talking about Ashley when Scarlett was still married to him? And what party was she talking about? The only party he knew of that would involve Ashley was Melanie's funeral, and that wasn't exactly a happy occasion where people would gossip over a red rimmed eye. The opposite was much more likely.

Mammy kept her flow of words going, seemingly not noticing Scarlett's frozen face, and some of the words suddenly registered in Rhett's brain. Mammy was talking about a barbecue and Twelve Oaks. But Twelve Oaks had been nothing more than sodden ruins for almost a decade. Unless… Unless.. But no that seemed far too far fetched. Yet, he was here in a room he had only seen briefly some years ago, in the body of his wife. If that was real, anything could be possible. Even travelling back in time!

He listened a bit more closely to Mammy's words, and all his doubt was banished. He was indeed at Tara on the very day he had met Scarlett for the first time. The day of the barbecue at Twelve Oaks. He slumped down on the bed. How was he to get through this day, and even more importantly, how was he to get out of this weird world and back into his own body in his own reality. At the same time a strange curiosity crept over him, would he perhaps better understand his damned wife if he spent some time in her original setting?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Sorry that this chapter was so long in the making, hopw you will forgive me and enjoy. **

Rhett leaned back and closed his eyes for a second, trying to shut out every 'thought of the absurd situation he found himself in. Just listening to the rhythmic beats, of the horses' hoofs against the red clay road. A familiar sound, in a world where everything else was foreign. He felt the stress and tenseness leave this unfamiliar body of his as he focused his entire attention on the regular klip-klops and the rustling of the wheels against the odd stone that hadn't been cleared from the road. For just a second he could pretend to be somewhere else which was all he longed to be. Anywhere but in this place and time that was unfamiliar yet creepily well known, or at least would be at the end of this short journey.

He would even go so far as to wish himself back at their horrible house in Atlanta; at least there he was himself and more importantly he could do as he pleased there.

The rich luscious countryside they passed by went unnoticed by Rhett, though it was especially beautiful at this time of the year. Lush colours of spring in a vivid mix of mainly greens, reds and yellows, not yet covered in the dusty film that would settle on plants and personnel as the weather would grow warmer and dryer. This was Georgia at its finest, but the turmoil in the former Mr Butlers head was too great to allow the surroundings to offer any comfort.

It had not taken him long to notice how a girl, brought up in the world that had been Scarlett O'Hara's had very little time to herself, or to do as she pleased.

The morning had passed in a fussy blur of constant activity.

First it was mammy who had scolded and prodded him to do… well to be quite honest he couldn't recall a word of what she had said to him or ordered him to do, he had still been too shell shocked to take in anything outside of himself and mind blowing turn his life had taken. Could it still be said to be his life?

He had been momentarily relieved when Mammy had left the room in a rustle of skirts, still muttering about "he' lamb's unnatural behaviour and how it just ain't fittin'". But the respite had been short lived as he had shortly thereafter been forced to join the company of the remaining members of the O'Hara family.

"So this is how I get to meet my parents in law for the first time" was the first thought that had flickered through his mind upon entering the dining room where the family had assembled for a brief breakfast meal prior to leaving for the festivities of the day. Of course that wasn't entirely true as he had met Mr O'Hara as he had tried to force his daughter back on the path of propriety bb convincing Rhett to leave her alone, a mission that had of course utterly failed and had ended in a late drunken game of cards. Nevertheless the chance to see Scarlett's parents in their rightful context was something that he later would be grateful for though at the moment it had been very overwhelming and bittersweet knowing that not ten years later these people would be gone. The memory that he would always be to recall with most clarity was that of Scarlett's mother. Ellen O'Hara had been a beautiful woman and the resemblance to Scarlett in exterior was clear, though the features of the mother were more delicate, as was her temper, than that of the daughter. Ellen O'Hara bore in appearance and demeanour the distinct marks of generations of aristocratic breeding, a stark contrast to the round, open and inviting face on her husband; also he could see the resemblance to her sister who was amongst his mothers friends in Charleston. Though he concluded, Ellen was definitely the most exquisite of the three. The other members of the household was less clearly painted in his memory, Scarlett's sisters clearly lacked the fire and spark of their elder sister, though both were undeniably pretty, especially the youngest Careen, who would definitely grow in to a beauty, or so he assumed, realising that he had never actually met the youngest of the O'Hara girls.

To restless to dwell on any specific moment for any long period of time his thoughts glided on to other curiosities of the morning that had just passed. Apparently a girl had to be well fed before being let out in society, a fact that had been made even clearer to him when mammy had stopped just short of force feeding him before their departure.

He had received some odd glances from both Scarlett's mother and father, and more than once he had caught Suellen snickering at him or sticking out her tongue at him, probably trying to rile Scarlett into an angry outburst. But he had been too exhausted to put much emotion on display. Which in turn was probably what have caused the inquiring glances from Scarlett' parents.

Surprisingly he had been able to answer all questions without causing too much suspicion. It was like the true Scarlett took over every time he opened his moth to speak, it was all very weird.

However all in all that part of the morning had gone fairly well given the circumstance.

On top of the eeriness and general discomfort of the situation, he had had the disputable pleasure of being dressed in the finery that was demanded of the ladies of that time. That of course involved being laced up – or caged in to a corset more like it as he had concluded. He had found it to be an excruciating and constant source of pain, and even now sitting completely still he felt how the steel inlays dug into his sides if he breathed in just a little too deeply. However ladies endured it on a daily basis was beyond him.

In addition to the corset the wide hooped skirts had been another challenge, navigating enveloped in a tent had not been part of any of his training. Though no direct physical discomfort came from this as there did from the corset, only an even stronger feeling of being caged.

He sighed silently and tried to place himself in a more comfortable position, but it was difficult with all the lace, lengths of fabric and the tight corset that forced him into a very upright position.

Getting into it had been an excruciating pain and almost humiliating as Mammy had pulled and pulled, all the while chiding Scarlett to hold her breath if she wanted to have her waist as tiny as possible. He had been close to fainting for several moments after she had finally been satisfied with the result. And wondered however anybody could walk let alone dance being so restricted.

He had always admired the corseted female form – almost as much as he enjoyed the view of the bared version – but he had silently promised himself to ensure that no wife or other female of his closer acquaintance would ever be forced to wear such a thing again.

As mammy had pulled with all her might to get the stays to squeeze in his waist enough to fit into that green dress he had unwillingly yet very clearly remembered seeing Scarlett in the first time. Had she suffered as much as he now did to look this pretty?

He had contemplated insisting on wearing some old rag just to diminish the amount of attention he would receive from all Scarlett's old beaux's. He felt faint at the mere thought of being the centre of attention in such a crowd – given his current form. In the end however as he had skimmed through her wardrobe he had been unable to resist. That image of Scarlett in her green dress was one of his most cherished memories of her, and every detail of that dress was imprinted in his mind. Untainted by war and loss as she had then been. How could he deny himself that pleasure?

For that was another thing on his mind.

This place was where he had first set eyes on Scarlett and the place where their paths had met for the first time. He remembered the interest she had sparked in him, and remembered how afterwards he had dreamt of her, not dreams of matrimony or even love, but dreams where she had given herself to him. Dreams of dark nights, filled with passion – a Scarlett he had later been given or rather had taken – the tiniest taste of. But back then it had only been dream, vivid dreams created by just a brief encounter. He wondered for the umpteenth time how he had let her creep into his mind so speedily and with such sticking power that only after years of sorrow had he been able to leave her, banishing her from his life, though clearly not from his mind.

He sighed deeply and shook his head to clear his head from those thought. It was far too awkward to recall those dreams given the current situation.

He felt exhausted. All he had needed was oblivion. A place where he could forget, drowning his sorrows and hurt in a completely unconstructive way. How he longed for a drink, but he didn't even dare to even consider nearing the bar that he recalled was to be found in Scarlett's fathers office. The thought of whatever Gerald O'Hara would be prone to do if he found his eldest daughter downing the better part of a bottle of whiskey, which was the minimum amount that Rhett felt would satisfy his thirst, didn't appeal to him as strongly as the thought of the blissful numbness that such an encounter with the bottle would result in.

Ironically, instead of the respite he had so desperately needed he now found himself in a situation that not only demanded his full strength and courage but also every inch of his mental powers to keep him from going insane. Neither he felt was anywhere near available to him.

His body and mind was still drained from his inward struggle over whether he should really leave Scarlett, the desperate feeling of loss that had griped him after the loss of Bonnie and the more tangible physical fatigue he felt from living in a house where a silent fight with Scarlett had been going on for as long as he could remember, lastly the lifestyle he had recently enjoyed outside his home had not exactly been beneficial for his health either. He wouldn't deem it a gross overestimate if somebody had told him that his daily alcohol consumption lately had averaged a couple of bottles of strong liquor. So Rhett was bone exhausted, and definitely found this current situation even remotely beneficial in his wish to retire and regain his strength and his sanity.

How would he get through the day? And just as importantly, what could he do to set the situation right?

A knock on the carriage side broke Rhett's train of thoughts. Suddenly aware that their party had grown. Apparently they had met up with some other of the county folks. Rhett opened his eyes, and his gaze was caught by a vivacity of red curls flowing from the heads of the passengers of the other carriage. A horde of girls crammed into a carriage designed for less people than it was currently holding. They chattered loudly, some parts of the conversation clearly directed at their carriage but no answer seemed to be necessary as the chatter went on uninterrupted. He turned his head slightly and noticed an equally red headed woman on a horse trotting next to Gerald O'Hara, something that was fairly unusual behaviour for a lady that was clearly not a young belle, probably the girls' mother – a wiry woman dressed in something that was not a riding habit yet neither a dress made according to the rules of fashion of those days. All parts of society had their accepted eccentrics and he concluded that this woman might be one of those. After a moments consideration he came to the conclusion that this must be the Tarleton's. He tried to think of something that Scarlett might have told of them to better place them in context but nothing sprang to mind, except for some sour remark on her point about the mother and her red headed offspring. Damn her for being so reluctant on reliving the past and telling him of her life before the war! How would he ever survive this day?

As they neared the house he felt some sort of change in the body that he inhabited. Not dissimilar from the sensation that had caused his transformation into Scarlett to be complete – going from only being his reflection to an actual full body transformation. For a moment he feared and hoped that the magic or curse whatever it was would have worn of and revealed him in his own skin again. Of course this might have caused an uproar out of which he was not sure that he would come out alive. But it wasn't. No the change was more in his control over the body. He sort of felt pushed aside to that of an observant spectator. He still saw and heard everything from Scarlett's point of view but she some how had regained the control.

He hadn't really had time to consider what he would have done with the day had he been in control of Scarlett's actions, could he have changed the course of her life that day, and would he have dared done that? Would she have caught his attention that day had she acted any other way than she did? Could he have risked never falling in love with her simply by avoiding her confessing her love to Ashley? Did he in fact wish for himself he had never fallen in love with her knowing the suffering that that love had brought with it? He couldn't answer any of those questions. And now he had been taken away the opportunity to do anything about it which was both a tremendous relief and a vast disappointment. He inwardly sighed – how absolutely absurd this whole situation were. He still every moment expected to be woken up by a hard slap from Belle or if not her, at least a doctor of some mental institution – only reasonable explanation to all this was that he had finally gone completely mad. This simply couldn't be real – at least he still had a hard time believing it.

As the carriage pulled up in front of the impressive building that was – or had been? Twelve Oaks he was again hit by the controversy of the situation. Why was it he, who had always damned the south's polite ways and who had not withered away in longing for the return of those day, who were given the chance to relive it, even if it was in an absurd form. Yet he had to admire the display, the building was elegant in its whitewashed hugeness, tall columns decorating the façade of the house, providing a place of shadow and coolness from the warmth of the day, that despite the earliness of the hour was beginning to feel a bit prickly. Wide stairs let guests from the driveway up to the porch where the lord of the manor stood ready to receive every single guest with a smile and a polite greeting.

The thought that all that was now left of this glory was overgrown ruins, a discarded cemetery with blackened headstones and a family in pieces, most of those present on this day only alive in the memory only of those few who remained saddened him immensely. Even if he wasn't particularly fond of the family members themselves, the tragedy of it all rang clear in him.

Young people spilled out all over the place, colourful creatures on a white backdrop. Young girls with their arms hooked under the arm of their best friend or some shyly parading up and down with their newest beaux. Older matrons clad in less gay colours but still with a look of expectant joy on their faces filed to and from the house, greeting new comers or engrossed in, by the look on their faces, some very interesting conversation. A general atmosphere of peace and lively pleasantries reigned. Handsome carefree faces; as can only be seen belonging to those people who has always been used to a life without being without, a life of plenty. As their party alighted from the carriage young men greeted him enthusiastically, hoping for a smile from their goddess, while the women gave more reluctant greetings, never diverting themselves from the path of politeness, but not showing any real warmth towards him. Scarlett apparently, had never been well liked by her fellow females. When he saw the devoted glances of his male counterparts, he felt sure he understood why. One girl greeted him with an open face, he didn't know her name but that didn't matter, Scarlett's body or mind; however it worked, elegantly handled all the conversation for him and no awkward situation did arise.

Moving through the bustling crowd of joyous beautiful people, Rhett Butler felt quite numb. He felt liked he was being dragged along by the vivacious creature whose body he occupied, without any influence on where he went, where he looked or what he said. His eyes scanned the crowd as he moved along halting suddenly upon a stranger.

He almost stumbled as he eyed the stranger, it was none other than himself. He glanced at the younger Rhett Butler curiously with very mixed feelings. He was glad that he had known that he would eventually run into himself, even if he was the only one who knew of his double presence – if not he would probably really have lost his last figment of sense of reality. As he took in his younger self's appearance he couldn't help but feel very old all of a sudden. How full of energy and faith in himself he had been. He had had his sufferings and fought his battles, after having been kicked out of his childhood home at an early age. But the scars those battles had left him, was nothing compared to those that marred his soul now. All of a sudden he felt very old. Yet at the same time he was reluctant to move on, seeing himself like that was oddly satisfying.

The stranger that was himself eyed Scarlett O'Hara with hungry eyes, that almost made him feel indecent, and sure enough he felt the face of Scarlett O'Hara contract into a pensive frown, before she turned her back on him and continued into the house.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Here you go - the third part of a twist of faith. Hope you will like it....**

Darkness was everywhere. Swirling dense darkness, without a single hint of light gleaming from anywhere. The air was cool and misty – almost suffocatingly so. Obstacles were hidden everywhere, high trees and low hanging branches, trying to obscure her progress.

Her feet tapped rapidly against the ground. The sound muffled somewhat by the thick carpet of pine needles that covered the forest floor, making her ragged breathing and her pounding heart seem even louder than it actually was. The cool air made her lungs ache from the effort of her fast breathing. But she couldn't stop or pause for even a second, she had to continue running from the invisible foe that lurked somewhere in the surrounding darkness.

She opened her eyes even wider, trying to force some indication of her surroundings, but the darkness was impenetrable making her way forward even more difficult. Nevertheless she had to keep running – keep moving - or the panic that rushed through her veins would surely overtake her. And end up leaving her paralysed with fear – an easy target for the unseen danger.

She frantically prayed that this time she would get her release, finally find her safe haven – her saviour.

But NO!

The realisation hit her with such an overwhelming power as to almost make her trip and tumble to the ground.

She remembered with numbing clarity that she now knew where her salvation lay, and it had been denied her. Apparently she was destined to always be alone and unhappy – hunted by these nightly visions of pure fear, her salvation just out of reach.

Unwanted thoughts of the previous night flashed through her mind, memories so clear and sharp as if she was actually living through they portrayed all over again. Only this time she knew what was coming, which if possible made it much worse. She felt as though she was choking, choking on bitter memories and thoughts of the chances she ad unknowingly thrown away and due to that she foresaw numerous barren days stretching out ahead of her only interrupted by these nightly visits to this eerie dream world.

She was alone as she had never been alone before.

Without realising it she had constantly has somebody fighting at her side, fighting for her - but no more. Both her protective shields had been stripped of her in one cruel motion.

Melly oh dear Melly, so pale and sickly looking as she had been. Lying there struggling to draw her last breaths all the while trying to convey a very last message to Scarlett who, she now shamefully admitted, had been much less enthusiastic about this, than her saint of a dear departed friend had rightfully deserved. The ghostly white paleness of the departed had already started to creep in on her, indicating that her brief visit amongst the living was coming to an end. Yet she had used the very last drops of life on a selfless act to save the marriage of her friend.

The images of her dying friend were interwoven with Rhett's words of goodbye as he had finally professed his love for her. Or rather told the story of the love that he had held for her – but which had been worn out by years of neglect and harsh words on either said. He professed that all was gone, bar a slight pity, hidden beneath layers of bitterness for what had passed between them.

She could hear his words as ringing for her ears, his voice unnaturally calm and his eyes dead – all the spirited light that she remembered used to fill them had been put out by the blows that life had dealt him recently. She wondered when exactly this had happened, and acknowledged that she hadn't cared to look for so long, so it might have been several months or even a year ago. How exhausted and fragile he had looked, as if the effort it took for him to even keep breathing, might be enough to break him. His once beautiful body slumped and bulging from neglect.

Now, as she hadn't been able to on her first hearing the words, the overwhelming sadness concealed in his words hit her with full force.

All these thoughts flashed through her mind as she kept her pace putting one foot in front of the other, magically avoiding the obstacles hidden by the darkness.

For a moment she thought se saw just a flicker of light in the distance. Perhaps there was still hope that she could be freed from this nightly horror? The joy she felt at this possibility made her careless and unfocused for a second, breaking her lucky spell as her foot got caught in a root protruding from the ground.

And then she fell.

Fell into the overwhelming darkness. Her arms frantically clutching for a stronghold but finding nothing.

Fell screaming his name at the top of her voice.

"Rhett" His name echoed in the silence.

Wake up Scarlett, wake up – her heart prayed. His name a faint echo on her lips. Tears gathering in her eyes.

She trembled as she finally felt the nightmare releasing its hold on her. A little bit of the nightly terror and tension seeped away, leaving her with only the vivid memories of what had just passed. The nightmares were getting more and more real with each repetition, and she needed to wake up NOW. Needed to find herself in her room in the Peachtree Street mansion. Even if it was a place filled with sad and haunting memories, at least it belonged to a world she knew. A world controlled by logic and understandable rules. When she was awake she was in control, she could master her feelings and push those away that she didn't like, unlike in this eerie dream world where she time after time was brought face to face with her deepest fears and longings.

After what felt like an eternity she landed with a soft thud.

For a moment she let out her breath in thanks at the feeling of solid ground beneath her body. But the relief lasted for only a second.

Something was amiss. She had expected to wake up bathed in sweat entangled in her sheets as so often before, but even in this state of half consciousness as she believed herself to be in she knew something was wrong.

Steadying her breath and thus calming herself, her senses started to register the input they received from the surroundings.

She was as she had already deducted not in her bed. But then where?

The light breeze and chill air told her that she was still outside. Running her hands cautiously over the ground she was laying on she realised that she was actually sprawled flat on the pine floor that she had previously been running on. This first filled her with panic – she was now at the mercy of whatever it was that always haunted her. She had to use all her well practised control to not give into it. Breathing in deeply to some extent helped her regain her senses and she braced herself for whatever would come – as so many times before Scarlett was saved by her pragmatic view of the world.

Clearly the thing she had been running from, in what she had believed to be her nightmare had decided not to get hold of her or it would definitely used her fall as an opportunity. So nothing to be afraid of immediately she reasoned with herself.

Squinting her eyes open, she started to take in her surroundings more clearly. It was not as dark as she had perceived whilst running. Or else it had changed?

She was lying on what seemed to be the floor of a high ceiling pine forest, and what had caused her to fall was nothing but a protruding branch. She could now easily make out shapes of trees and in the openings between the tree's pointed tops, blotches of dark blue sky was visible.

How she had gotten here she had no clear idea of or indeed any idea at all. The last thing she remembered before this was going to bed in her lonely bed at her Atlanta mansion.

She had not long to consider her situation for in the distance she could hear high voice approaching. A group of boys engrossed in some very important discussion. Not yet quite close enough for her to actually make out the words that were being spoken.

"Did you hear his screaming" A malicious tone in the voice of a boy still out of sight was the first thing she was able to clearly make out.

"Calling out his own name!" Another voice added – the tone of voice indicating that this was the numbest thing ever. Small sniggers were the response given to this comment.

Whoever were they talking about Scarlett wondered? She had heard no one make a sound apart from herself as she screamed.

The gratification she felt on hearing other voices gave her a temporary relief, and calmed her immensely, pushing her thoughts of her current whereabouts back in her mind. Oddly enough she was comforted by the confirmation that she was not alone in the world. It made it seem less frightening. If indeed this was still her nightmare, at least she no longer had to face it all by herself.

Also they sounded like kids, and would probably be more than happy to help a lady in distress such as herself.

She started to get up, her body sore from her recent fall.

This was when she received the real shock. In the semi darkness she could only just make out her body. But what she saw was something quite unfamiliar.

She gasped at the realisation and had to contain herself not to scream – and for once in her life she felt close to fainting.

Gone were her familiar curves, replaced by what looked like the body of a small boy. In place of the dressing gown, she had worn as she had gone to bed, were short pants, high stockings, a shirt and a fitted jacket. She lifted her hands to her face and let her fingers trace the unfamiliar lines – crushing the small hope that the face would still be her own. She let her fingers continue further and instead of her long soft hair her fingers was met by shorter thicker hair.

What the hell had happened, who was she, where was she????

She felt her airways constricting again, and a wave of nausea rolled over her.

Again the voices of the approaching group of children brought her out of her frantic thinking.

"I am here" she quacked without thinking - her voice thin and fragile and completely unfamiliar as well. Only then realising that she might be the one they had been discussing just before, and that their intentions might not be as pure as she would have hoped them to be.

At the sound of her voice the boys rapidly change direction, moving towards her. They closed in on her quickly – four of them all together – and placed themselves in a threatening circle around her, leaving her no room to escape.

"So Rhett Butler you decided to give in and apologise?"

Rhett Butler – the name hit Scarlett right in the face. Her mouth fell open, gawping at the shock hearing such an unexpected name spoken. She must surely still be dreaming. Without thinking she pinched her arm as hard as she was able to in order to wake herself up. The attempt turned out to be futile. The world didn't change in order to magically transport her back to her bed; all she gained from her action was a small pain shooting through her arm.

"No answer – cat got your tongue?" the tallest boy of the bunch leaned closer. While his cronies sniggered in the background.

"Well, it doesn't seem like you've learned your lesson. You have to obey or we will spread the rumours about your rotten family even further" He leaned in and grabbed the jacket collar of the boy that was Rhett Butler.

Scarlett who peeked out of the boys eyes did not know what to make of the situation. She felt paralysed. Scared of what would happen next.

She stared transfixed into the eyes of her captor. What would they do to her – him?

A rustling in the bushes not far away caught the attention of the other boys – they all of a sudden seemed restless and a little bit insecure.

"Rhett Butler where are you I's been looking all over for you" An old Negro voice called out into the semi darkness. The boys now actually looked worried. Shifting their glance back and forth between the place from where the sound came and the face of the eldest boy that still held on to Rhett's coat..

He also glanced in the direction from where the voice had just sounded. A branch cracked and yielded under the weight of somebody heavy approaching. Causing the boy to shrug and release the smaller boy from his grasp.

As he did so he whistled barely audible out between his teeth.

"Breathe a word about this to anyone and you know what will happen"

Scarlett couldn't help but nod, still not quite believing what had just passed, but yet too scared to challenge the reality of what was going on.

As the boy turned away from her, she crumbled in a small heap. Tears welled up in her eyes and small sobs shook her lithe frame. Whether she cried from the shock of the recent turn of events or from the absurdity of the situation she didn't know. But it felt gratifyingly good to give into the urge to cry.

The four boys disappeared with only a few crackling sound revealing their movement. It was enough however to guide the approaching man.

A big warm hand was placed carefully on her back.

"Where have you been Mista Rhett, I's been looking for you for hours n' hours" The words held a slight accusation, but the tone of voice was friendly and without blame.

The hand tenderly urged Scarlett to sit up. She hesitantly lifted her face and her eyes met the eyes of the man. An old Negro servant, a big round friendly face that reminded her of the field hand Big Sam, who had come to her rescue back in those horrible days when she was going to the mills every day to ensure their lively hood. The memory made more tears well up in her eyes, causing the old man to make slight shushing noise to calm her down.

"Now, now Mista Rhett, don't you cry. You know what Mista' Butler thinks of big boys that cry. You don't want him to see you like this now do you?"

The old man helped Scarlett to her feet and brushed away the pine needles that had attached themselves to her clothes.

She looked up at the old man and tried to steady herself, she blocked out all the thoughts that pressed themselves forward in her mind. If she had to consider the situation now in this moment, she would surely go mad – if she hadn't already of course. A scenario that seemed altogether to likely.

"Come boy they are all waiting for you" He beckoned for Scarlett to follow.

____________________

Their feet crackled on the gravel stones that covered the driveway. It had been only a short walk, not near long enough for Scarlett to even begin to gather her thoughts. She was shaken to her core, expecting to every minute to wake up from this new twisted nightmare that she was living through.

Even if she had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't a nightmare. Something just seemed too real.

How could it be real though? How could she a grown woman be trapped in the body of a boy of what 7-8-9 years perhaps even a few years more? If this really was Rhett's childhood she now found herself in, then how could it be? How could she find herself in at time and place where she had never even been, let alone she wasn't even born yet. Every bit of her logical self reeled against this being real, but at the same time the part of her that had always believed in heaven and more specifically hell, was convinced that for some twisted reason this was actually happening. Perhaps some absurd punishment for the way she had treated the man that this boy would turn into.

A hysteric snort left her, causing the old man to cast her a worried glance. Not the first on their walk back. He had tried to start a conversation more than once, but it had been halted after a few words by her lack of reply. She simply didn't know what to say. Not trusting her voice or her senses enough to actually start speaking.

As they reached the next turn she had to stop dead in her tracks. The turn revealed a magnificent plantation home, unlike everything she had ever seen before. Even Twelve Oaks that had always been her measuring stock for architectural beauty and elegance would fade into little more than a shabby garden house in comparison – a cheap copy of this marvellous house.

She had never known that Rhett came from such a place of grace and beauty.

No wonder he had never been much impressed with their Atlanta mansion.

Why had he never even mentioned this place, anybody who had ever lived in a house like that must love it forever! She knew how she felt about Tara and it was nothing compared to this.

Every window was lit from within casting a warm glow over the surroundings; tall columns decorated the front side of the house creating a high ceilinged patio. That of course was nothing out of the ordinary. But there was just something she couldn't put her finger on that made this house stand out as something exceptional.

"Come now boy" The old servant interrupted her train of thoughts.

"You 's been away too long already, don't want to keep the master waiting any longer?"

Master – the master of the house.

She felt her heart clench with fear again. She couldn't do it – how should she be able to handle a meeting with Rhett's father? She didn't know anything about him, or even about Rhett's upbringing other than the fact that he had been banned from this place in his early youth. His mother she had only seen once.

How would she be able to handle any conversation??

She tried to pull away, but the old man had obviously expected this. So immediately his grip tightened slightly hindered Scarlett's escape.

"No no Mista Rhett, you 's not to run away again – your father has requested your presence and so it will be"

He looked Scarlett in the eye as he spoke the last word. A hint of pity present there for just a fleeting second, but it was gone so fast that she might have imagined it.

The house was even more impressive up close, also a little intimidating, especially know that she was so far from the turf on which she felt at home and confident as possible.

Shrugging imperceptibly she raised her chin and straightened her back as she entered the huge house. Sherman hadn't been able to lick her – she sure as hell wouldn't let this defeat her. After all it was her own, or rather Rhett's father that she was about to meet. How bad could it be?

____________________

Bad enough she admitted when she later lay in her bed.

It had been with shaking steps that she had entered the sitting room that Rhett's parents used for entertaining guests. Only when she entered the room did she realise that she didn't know how Rhett's father was – not exactly a calming thought.

This of course had proven to be the least of her problems, as his father was a spitting image of how Rhett would look as a grown up – at least at a first glance. The same piercing dark eyes, only the elder Mr Butlers eyes seemed to be completely devoid of the laughter that had been present in Rhett's in the happier days of their marriage, and in the earlier years of their acquaintance. His build was the same – only less muscular, but his coat had the same perfect fit as Rhett always mastered to perfection.

He had treated her – his son with a harsh carelessness that startled her. She had always been so used to her father's kind treatment – and she had been a daughter - that she had really not considered that a father could treat a son, an eldest son at that – which such cold disdain.

She had been too overwhelmed by the situation to say much, which had obviously not pleased the parent. Who had let rather a few snide comments fall on his sons behalf.

Even of she had wanted to speak she was not sure she would have been able to, as she had felt a hesitant reluctance in the body she inhabited all the time when she had been given the audience.

She had only been granted about ten minutes in the company of the grown ups which had been more than enough. Every other word that the older Mr Butler had uttered had contained a more or less hidden barb.

She had also briefly seen Rhett's mother who had been only a less wrinkled version of the woman she had seen at Bonnie's funeral. She already looked quite worn by life though she couldn't be that old considering the age of her first born.

All in all a rather puzzling experience – and nothing like what she would have expected from Rhett's childhood or his relationship with his father. Or at least not what she would have imagined had she ever started to give any thoughts to the background of the man she now professed to love.

Why did his father dislike him so much even now? From what Scarlett had felt so far he didn't seem like a rebellious child who was prone to give his father much trouble. Yet there was clear antipathy.

And what had the children in the forest been hinting at. It was all quite troubling. Most likely though she admitted she would never find out.

She also wondered of this atmosphere that reigned the household was an everyday thing or if something extraordinary had caused it?

How had this little boy who in some ways seemed rather timid turned into the self assured man that she had spent a large part of her life with?

What had caused this change in him?

All these thoughts occupied her to such an extent when she drifted into sleep that she didn't even have any time to consider her own situation, and how she would tackle having to live on in Rhett's youthful body if that was to be the case.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Sorry this has taken soooo very long to get here, I'll try to do better in the future ;). Hope that some of you will still remember my little story. In the last bit of the chapter I've borrowed a bit or perhaps quite a bit of MMs conversation. Without further spoilers... please Enjoy!!**

"Scarlett, look what I've brought you – a few delicious bits and pieces of most tender meat from the Barbecue" The smiling face of a handsome young man hovered in front of her eyes. His brown kind cow eyes reeking with admiration, begging for her to notice him.

"No, look here, look here. I've got you a nice cup of punch" An eager looking redhead interrupted insistently, his rural Georgia accent very pronounced. Next to him an identical version of himself nodded in accent, seeing it as a near offence that any body else dared address their hearts desire. Both were they dressed in the latest fashion. Well tailored blue coats, crème breeches and each a silver fob for decoration, their hair groomed into the coveted wind swept look that was all the thing for a man of fashion. Shiny eyes (whether from happiness or a cup too much of the offered punch remains uncertain), broad smiles and lust for life evident in their young faces. She was theirs, and not too keen on allowing anybody else too near.

"Scarlett, Scarlett I've brought you some of your favourite ice cream" A third gentlemen threw in. Carrying a plate of delicate sorbets and lush chocolate ice cream. Also he, possessed the slightly disjointed far away expression in his eyes, as if he really didn't know what had hit him, only seeing this small piece of perfection clad in the finest fabrics before him.

They flocked around her. Like bees around the sweetest flower, eager for even the tiniest drop of nectar sent their way. All men, from the age of 15 to at least the age of 40, were going out of their way to please her, hoping that she would accept even the tiniest bite or sip of champagne from their hand. Most likely, some above this age also longed to flutter to her side, but as they were generally married, they at least had to keep up the pretence of indifference. Admiring her in sly, sending only adoring glances her way...

Scarlett sat like a colourful bird in the middle of this odd circle, her minions basking around her for glory. Glory of course in this case meant a rewarding smile from her rosy red lips. She was, as always, when she willed it, the undeniable centre of attention.

Her mouth was shaped into a pleasant smile, belying the storm beneath the surface. Not enjoying her role as focal point as much as it seemed, or as much as the more catty amongst her fellow competitors for the suitors would claim. Though, as per an automatic instruct, her eyelashes fluttered for each divine compliment she received. She sent of charming smiles in the right direction if a gentleman sat something particularly clever, or if she felt even a hint of wavering attention from someone. Her head though, was aching from the effort; or rather his head was aching. For no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that this couldn't be true he was still undeniably bound in this parallel universe, posing as the unwilling centre of attention. He wanted time to think, mull over what had brought him here, and how to get away. In short, put distance between himself and this entire situation, but so far the opportunity had not presented itself. He felt like a train cart put in motion on a single track with no possibility of diverting from the given trail. So smile and suffer he did, fulfilling the old adage that many a woman had passed on to her daughters upon entering into the state of holy marriage.

Oh how tiring it was.

He counted the seconds to the end of the day, though they seemed to drag by at a pace even a snail would have been bored by.

His head and neck was hurting from the effort it took him to even sit erect. His garments would allow no other posture, or an insistent prod from a metal wire of his corset would remind him of his slack in a way that not even Mammy could have mustered to greater perfection.

The smile had been plastered on his pretty female face for hours and hours on end. From his initial greeting to the silver haired Mr Wilkes on the shaded porch, all through the tedious hours of sitting through the last Barbecue at Twelve Oaks. The wave of nostalgia that had at first and very unexpectedly hit him after seeing this place in its full glory once again, had long since dispersed, leaving only a dull sad fatigue.

He had tried to gain control over this body he was in, so far though his inward rebellion had been futile. For the tiniest moments he had felt that he was getting in charge. But then somebody spoke to him, and the strong will and presence of this younger edition of his wife, without effort, managed to regain control. He was a marionette caught within the unknown puppeteer.

Even now as the relentless talking of all her admires were driving him mad he still had no power to do anything but give in to her. In a way he admired that in her, she would yield to no one, not even his unknown presence. How very much like their marriage he thought not without irony, never giving an inch.

Her eyes though, were his, and they continuously sought refugee from the absurd situation by scrutinising every detail of the scenery that outplayed around him and his group of admirers.

He felt a pang, as his eyes made contact with Ashley sitting at the feet of the colourless Melanie Hamilton looking so serene and content even then. He wasn't sure whether this rush of feeling was actually hers or his own. Anger mixed with something else, so probably both.

Melanie... she actually didn't look much different from when he had seen her last, a little more tired then perhaps, but despite her frailty or perhaps because of it she hadn't changed much. Perhaps it was her good faith in people that kept her young and carefree looking, or perhaps she always looked a little old for her age, and had now grown into her right age. It struck him though, that the last time he had seen her had been just before her miscarriage. How could she look the same even as she had been so close to death. The sadness to know that she was gone from his world was overwhelming and he fleetingly wondered whether it would end up being his place to interfere with her life, and safe her from her to early departure from the world of living.

Suddenly his eyes were caught by the sweeping glance of a lone outsider standing casually taking in every detail of the party, much like he himself was doing this very moment. Paying attention to especially his or rather her collection of immaculate gentlemen. With an instant jolt he recognised those boring eyes, normally only starring back at him from the silvery depths of a mirror, they were his own.

He wondered how his thirty three years old self would have reacted if he had known: for one, that the green eyes that we're starring back at him belonged not to the sixteen year old Belle that had caught his reluctant attention but in her place a twisted version of his 45 years old self. And secondarily, the amount of heartbreak and suffering the perfectly moulded form of his wife to be would bring him. Would it have made him run away, or would his propensity for lost causes have made him run to her even faster? Was clarity in foresight something to be wished for or something you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy?

He breathed in heavily trying to banish all thoughts of the past and especially the future. Otherwise he feared he might go crazy.

The air was velvety warm, and thus an enjoyment to most. He acutely felt like an outsider. Why was it that he was condemned to this double existence? Having to face this whole merry charade once again?

He breathed in deeply, steadying himself.

This time his restless eyes took in a broader view of the scenery. He guessed with a reluctant sort of satisfaction, that he was not alone in wishing for the day to be over.

Amongst his fellow "end wishers" were the stout matrons and the more well set gentlemen. Not exactly the sort he would normally associate himself with. He had never really thought he would find himself to have anything in common with that part of the crowd; well that's emergencies for you! And after all he supposed, it was only fair that his imagination hadn't been able to stretch itself this far, i.e. to actually imagine common ground in such a strange situation. Today though he wouldn't or rather couldn't be too picky; and could one of the matrons ensure a sudden end to the party he would welcome it! Thank her dearly even in the bedtime prayer he was sure he could not avoid.

The former discreetly urged the small Negro boys with their large weaved fans closer, desperately seeking the respite provided by even a hint of fresh air from the fans slow movements. Heavy douse coloured silks were not all the thing on a fairly warm day such as this. Never letting on this discomfort they maintained the air of being deeply engrossed in a discussion probably on the most interesting topic of the lack of gleaming silverware at the Dunbar wedding a fortnight ago or something equally earth shattering. Topics that of course all had been thoroughly exhausted on previous gatherings but always could be brought back for a reprieve to uncover new details.

The gentlemen were more at liberty to show their indisposition, they less than discreetly dabbed at their sweaty brows and loosened the cravats that had been elaborately done as fashion prescribed. Bellies too full for them to be very much interested in anything but a respite from the formality required when ladies were present. No etiquette openly applauded this but as their courting days were over; this really didn't matter much to anyone.

All had they the thing in common that they were counting the seconds until the gong would sound, signalling the end of the morning's festivities. This would give the gentlemen the opportunity to retire to the cooler interior of the mansion, discussing at large the topic that had been banished from the Barbecue. The war! A topic that could keep them entertained hours on end. All the while leisurely enjoying a brandy or an idle game of cards.

The ladies, on the other hand, were to either withdraw to the upstairs compartments for a refreshing nap with the reprieve of a loosened corset before the afternoon's activities and the following ball, or to accompany the children who were yet too young to have had their actual society début, home. Most of them looking forward to and ultimately enjoying a quiet evening by themselves, without having to fulfil any of the tasks that normally fell on the shoulders of a plantation owners wife.

Rhett Butler's heart beat a little bit faster at this thought; he knew that this would inevitably mean facing himself, and facing the honourable Mr Wilkes as well. He would, unless fate interfered have to confess his undying love to a man whom he utterly despised, and whom he also blamed for the greater part of the misery that had befallen him. This notion made him suddenly wish for the barbecue to continue for ever. Many things he would prefer doing rather than having to, literally, be a face witness to that scene.

If he had seen a way to stop time then he would have done it without a second of doubt. He concluded inwardly that he would rather pull out Scarlett O'Hara's perfect little pink tongue rather than having to hear it involved in forming the inevitable profession of love, to the golden wonder boy that held her mesmerised. Unfortunately he saw no way to accomplish such a feat, so he would ultimately just have to endure.

Distracting himself from this gloomy thought he let the unwavering eyes of his vixen wife glide over the remaining guests, all seemingly occupied with gay enjoyment. They were huddled together in small or larger groups. Far away, kids were engrossed in a game of hopscotch, their joyful cries echoed over the lawns.

He had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that the garden of Twelve Oaks was laid out beautifully. The well planned design reminding him a little of Dunmore Landing and its carefully crafted gardens. Both places bore the mark of timeless elegance. Especially for an event such as this it was perfect. The touch of a skilled landscape architect's hand clearly visible in every little detail of the garden's layout.

Tall trees offered shade to those who sought it, and also served as a convenient shield from the billowing smokes from the barbecues. This accomplished no matter from which direction the unpredictable Georgia wind decided to present itself. Despite this the tantalising smells still found their ways easily to the nostrils of the guests. Encouraging each to eat rather more than his fill.

Small nooks were also available for shy couples who sought their first solitude from the observing eyes of the other guests, though of course not shielded enough to be able to tarnish the reputation of a lady who went down those paths at the arm of her suitor. At an event such as this, of course, chaperones were readily available anywhere so as to ensure that no scandals were caused.

All this and more Rhett's keen eyes took in, in a matter of seconds, digesting the whole scenery, and just as easily dismissing it all. It was a time and people long gone, and he didn't want to dwell on it. He had survived the ruinous blow that had been dealt to the south, and had long since made piece with the fact that he had reaped greatly from what he had sown in the rubble. Yet it inexplicably tore at his heart to know, that this was one of the last peaceful idyllic hours left of that civilisation's existence.

One thing however attracted his attention again and again. Though he felt a twinge of pain at the sight it also, he admitted, gave him sort of mixed pleasure to watch the honourable Ashley Wilkes and his wife to be. He didn't know whether it was because he actually enjoyed to see this semi display of marital happiness, or if it was because he knew it would taunt Scarlett to be faced with the very peaceful togetherness that they pictured.

The son of the house and his fiancé had withdrawn to one of these more secluded spots. As all, despite the supposed secrecy of the affair, were aware of the pending engagement, none raised a disapproving eyebrow or pursed their lips in disapproval. It was nothing but fitting for a young man to seek out some alone time with his sweetheart.

He however felt his face, the only face where such a grimace had no rightful place, contort into a dissatisfied frown at the sight. Nothing mixed about her feelings upon watching their intimacy. Scarlett with her clear goal in mind, naturally, was not pleased with the open admiration and easy comfort that the two exuded.

Of course to the non too keen observer, it was not evident that the look of unguarded frustration that from time to time flashed over the features of the most sought after Belle was in any way connected to the absence of Ashley Wilkes amongst her followers, or rather the presence of him in the all to visible company of one grey mousy looking woman. But he, who was on the inside of the mask, felt it all too keenly. It was like the body, her body, mocked him. Wanted to make him feel the intensity of her believed love for the gilded Prince of Wilkes, even as the future, or was it the present? version of his wife had claimed that she no longer cared for the very man. Past, present and future seemed to melt together in an unholy mess that made him lost for words, even if he had had the ability to speak.

Still, he couldn't help but keep diverting his eyes to the happy couple to be, time after time again, with the same odd fascination that people who see a tragic accident must feel as they can't pull away their eyes from the scenery.

He was deep in thought, even as his attention was demanded by the insistent presence of her throng of Beaus. A speculative frown marring the smoothness of that otherwise elegant forehead, even as she again immersed herself in the lively chatter necessary to keep her flock entertained and dazzled. Even the keenest observer would thus have failed to notice that in this edition of the scenery, the appearance of said frown was not as correlated with the presence or absence of said golden prince as in other version. It was after all only natural since to most guests, no comparison would be available.

I suppose that being granted all mighty vision, as Rhett Butler had to some extent been, has to count for something. And to this all seeing gaze, it was clear to see and feel that the Scarlett O'Hara that presented herself today, was in a more speculative and pensive mood than in any of the edition that went before and after this particular outplay of events.

Also, rightfully, it has to be remembered that only one person who actively participated in the event, could be aware of the fact that this was naught but a replay, a re-enactment even, of past events. He of course, as we have previously noticed, was painfully aware of this fact.

GWTWGWTWGWTWGWTW

I love you Ashley Wilkes, I love you, I love you, I love you… The words pierced from her single minded point of view into his consciousness that resided in her body. A short and to the point singsongey repetitive theme to accompany his misery. Finally, all had been allowed to retire, and Scarlett had managed to sneak out unoticed. Leaving behind her fellow women, in their state of partial undress, ready as they were for the afternoon naps. Under more normal circumstances, the opportunity to be in a room with so many lightly dressed pretty girls, would have caused no small amount of excitement to him, but now the dread of what was to come weighed too heavily on him, for him to even really notice the benefits that could in fact be derived from being caught up in the body of a young woman. The thought of these upcoming conversations was almost enough to make him physically ill. Having the love that she had harboured for so long flaunted in his face so freely, made all the indifference he had shielded himself behind over the last many months, years even, melt away and the pain that he had thought was gone soared back to life. But he couldn't deal with that now, wouldn't deal with it now or he would go crazy.

He needed to escape from these feelings that threatened to be let loose. He wanted to escape, wanted to be sick, but the body wouldn't let him.

Bravely he braced himself for what was to come. Dragging his feet along, in her springing steps, on the way to what she still thought would be a glorious happy future in the arms of her idolised wonder boy, and he thought of as sure doom.

Rhett was overwhelmed by the dim darkness of the room, somehow his memory had altered the scenery, making it more gay and colourful, than this dark gloom that reigned in here. It was funny how this almost first of his memories of Scarlett, was one to both be cherished and abhorred. Before he had realised just how stubborn her love for Ashley Wilkes was it had been one of his favourites, as it had been his first encounter with her sparkling self, later it had been tainted, seeing as how unwilling she was to let go. Though the last part of it he had still held close to his heart.

He felt Scarlett sigh as she took in the surroundings as well; he guessed that she appreciated the gloomy regal beauty even less than he, as she had no interest in the volumes in here. Tall bookcases filled to the rim with timeless tales, covered every last inch of wall. The furniture was heavy and upholstered in thick dark fabrics, made as they were for long lounging hours of reading, rather than admiration by an uneducated eye. Tiny rays of sunlight flickered in through the slim partings of the heavy curtains, but not enough light was provided to really penetrate the dimness of the room. He was sure, that for all the Wilkes who had ever resided at Twelve Oaks, this place was the holy heart of the house, almost like a chapel. Scarlett of course, would never realise or if she did, never understand this love and longing for an imagined world, created only through a stream of words. Himself he prided held both sides of the coin, but perhaps it was only something that had been brought to him through his upbringing, and not a natural propensity. For the umpteenth time over the years he wondered, why a person so strictly bookish could hold any charm for a person with so little interest in the world of literary wonders as his dear wife.

Seeing Ashley again, as a young man, of course brought a little more understanding to Rhett's frustrated mind. Even if he lived with his head in the clouds he was a very handsome man. The perfect picture of a prince out of the novellas that Scarlett did no care to read. He guessed with dry humour, that it seemed that after all she had got some romantic notions out of books.

He couldn't help but turn his eyes slightly towards the sofa where he knew himself to be resting soundly.

In a desperate attempt to undo all past and future wrongs he tried to bolt forward, towards that very piece of furniture. If only he could stir himself from his sleep at this point already, making Scarlett aware of his own unwelcome presence there, so as not to endure the heartfelt profession of love that he was sure to face unless something completely different happened, and perhaps ensure a more happy outcome for himself.

Again, though, he was tripped by the laws of his current semi existence, no movement came no matter how much he tried to will it. It was like he had always imagined being paralysed would feel like, alive but unable to interact with the world at large.

Unaware of the struggle within her Scarlett lightly stepped over to the mirror piece hanging over a small spindly legged table, gazing with an admiring glance at her own reflection. She was sure in her own beauty, sure in her own charm, sure in her ability to bend every man to her will. Certain that soon, very soon she would be riding into the sunset with her handsome gallant cavalier at her side. Her heart filled with love and joy at the very prospect.

"No"

The word sprang surprisingly from her lips. From where it had arisen she couldn't tell. Her eyes widened in confusion as she starred questioningly into the mirror searching for a hidden clue in there, as nothing presented itself she dismissed it, as always not caring to spend time on perplexing matters. Instead she pinched her cheeks lightly to make the rosy red colour stand out, she gave herself a small wink, obviously very pleased with what she saw. Scarlett O'Hara had never been one to underestimate the power of her looks.

The other conscience starring out from within her green eyes however rejoiced, he had done it, somehow he had managed to influence the surroundings. He didn't know how but he had, perhaps it had been the shear intensity of what he had felt at her imminent joy? The knowledge dispersed a little bit of the tired bleakness he felt at the thought of the whole situation.

She heard Ashley's soft melodic voice bid farewell to the last departing guests, and she skipped to the door, ready to call him over as soon as he had finished that chore, still making sure that she wouldn't be seen by anybody who could interfere with her little scheme.

Now peering out through the partially opened door he saw the golden prince approach, slight surprise followed by a friendly appreciative smile on his face as he spotted Scarlett in the doorway.

"Why Scarlett, what are you doing down here, waiting for someone or hiding? From Charles or the Tarletons?" His voice was gently amused, not the jealous taunt of a wronged lover. Why couldn't she see that?

He felt her hesitate, her heart beating wildly. Or was it his heart? The realities were so mixed up that he didn't know which senses to believe in, his eyes and ears where most likely pulling this trick as a big deception on him, so he didn't put to much faith in anything. How else could he believe himself to have been transported through time and space to this most unlikely place? That puzzling question kept coming back to him, but as he had no answer at hand he dismissed it every time.

"Come here Ashley" She rapidly pulled him into the library and snapped the door shut behind them. She looked at him expectantly, as though she was ready to burst, yet for a moment she was stunned to silence. Not really clear as to how to actually start this talk.

"What is it?" he questioningly raised his eyebrow, lightly putting his hand on her shoulder as he sensed her agitation. A puzzled look on his face as she pulled away from his touch. The cool hand had felt as the touch of cold dead to the skin of Rhett Butler, and somehow Scarlett had been in accordance with him on that point. He feared though that her reasons were completely different from his, as he could feel the loving intensity of her gaze as she swept her eyes over the face of her beloved.

"Ashley" She started hesitantly. Her pronunciation, which made the name sound like a soft caress, send a piercing knife through the already tender heart of her visiting husband. Only once had she spoken his name with such tenderness, and then it had been too late.

"What is it my dear?" Ashley repeated. Rhett sensed a slight hesitance there as well; was it from dread or anticipation?

"What can be of such secret importance that you have to seek me out?" His eyes were gentle and soft, a look of slight concern in them.

Rhett wondered what explanation Ashley actually had been expecting to come from the rosy lips of his Scarlett. Had he foreseen the profession of love, wished for it, or was it actually totally unwelcome and a great surprise? He had never really been able to understand how much of their love affair was made up in Scarlett's stubborn mind, and how much was actually founded in reality. He had always known that part of Ashley lusted for his wife, but lust and wanting presented itself in so many interactions between humans that it didn't necessarily imply any active encouragement or wish for it to exist. He knew that all to well. Though he had always sought to take what he lusted for, Ashley hadn't or at least he had done so more discreetly, which blurred the facts of their sordid mess.

Again his Scarlett hesitated, he hoped from his unknown influence, but just as soon as the hoped formed within him her words started to spill.

"Yes, Ashley, I have something of importance to tell you… I love you" The last words where uttered as soft as a sigh more than actually spoken.

He took in the multitude of emotions that flickered over Ashley's face in that moment, seeing clearly that no matter if he had lead the Belle in front of him on just a little in his fascination with her vivacity, he neither wanted nor cared for the proffered love.

For a minute he let go of his jealousy and anger at this sad doomed love affair, and instead felt a pang of sorrow for Scarlett. She was so stubbornly confident in a love that didn't exist. No matter how much he despised this illusion of love, and no matter how much it had cost him of happiness over the years, in that moment he would have done anything to protect his dear hot tempered girl against the heartbreak that followed. He could feel the daring Irish part of her, which had let her to the abrupt confession, hesitate and shuddered a little as the unacknowledged risk of rejection presented itself in her mind. She understood, although she wasn't ready to admit it to herself yet, that Ashley would not just sweep her up in his arms and carry her away on a wave of happiness. She saw this unforeseen course of events realising themselves, though she didn't understand why. Her fantasy had been so complete that she had blocked out all possibilities of a different outcome, and it was a devastating blow.

Not unlike himself Ashley Wilkes mastered the gift of hiding emotions behind an impenetrable mask, even if he had to admit that the golden boy in front of him, did it with a little more caring gallantry still shining from his eyes.

"Isn't it enough that you've collected every other man's heart here today?" Said gentleman said, with a teasing, caressing note in his voice, trying to dismiss her confession as just a bit of flirting flattery taken a notch too far.

"Do you want to make it unanimous? Well, you've always had my heart, you know. You cut your teeth on it."

He felt as well as read it in Ashley's slightly pitiful eyes, the shocked surprised hurt that Scarlett felt at the words. Yet, even in face of defeat she refused to give in, continuing bull headedly in her chosen direction. His dear Scarlett, how often had he not admired that quality in her?

"Ashley, Ashley, oh please, don't tease me now! Tell me, tell me… Have I your heart? Oh, my dear, I lo.." Again his heart went out to her, at the same time as intense jealousy at her willingness to confess her love to this undeserving man seared through him. Caught between his always present wish to protect her, and the hurt it had always brought with it.

Ashley's hand went across her lips, swiftly, blocking the words that insisted on flowing. The mask was gone; his eyes were hard, though still filled with pity, something Scarlett in her stubborn blindness refused to see. So caught up was she in her dream, that she still refused to see that no matter how many time she uttered her wish, it wouldn't make him change his mind and give in to her.

Rhett felt both saddened and relieved at this, he had never really been sure about Ashley's feelings. But this more than anything convinced him, that Ashley Wilkes never had any real intentions towards his O'Hara girl. Why oh why had she been so blind? Why had she not been able to see this, when she in so many other aspects of life did not hold any illusions and saw only the stark realities.

"Stop it Scarlett you hear. You must not say these things, Scarlett! You mustn't. You don't mean them. You know you don't and later you'll hate yourself for saying them, and you'll hate me for hearing them!" There was a pleading note in Ashley's voice.

She jerked her head away. Hot tears threatening to spring from her eyes. Something she did not want him to see. She swallowed hard, and managed to quell them as she again turned her face towards him.

"I couldn't ever hate you. I tell you I love you and I know you must care about me because..." She stopped abruptly, the misery in his face struck her with an unexpected blow.´

"Ashley, you do care… you must! Don't you?" her voice was timid and trembling at those last words. Rhett felt the agony she felt, though he again had been reduced to an invisible spectator without any influence, nor the ability to turn away from the heartbreaking scene that it really was. The battle of a girls childhood illusions against the harsh reality that she would eventually have to face up to. He just wondered, why, like everybody else she had not been able to let go of this childhood infatuation, but instead had retired further into the world of illusions that was necessary to keep it alive?

"Yes," he said dully, his voice flat almost broken, his grey eyes without spark. "I care."

The young Mr Wilkes paused for a moment, mentally weighing his words, before deciding to go on, hoping not to have to hurt her further, still wanting to make her see.

"Scarlett," he said, "can't we go away and forget that we have ever said these things?" Ever the placid gentleman Rhett thought, his old contempt springing back to life? Would their lives had turned out differently if Ashley had spelled out his rejection more clearly?

"No," she whispered; not seeing, not understanding anything except the goal that she had fantasised about. He had to marry her, he had to or her life would be over. The stubborn mantra rang through her mind and into Rhett's as clearly as if she had spoken the words out loud. Again he felt sick, also he wondered whether the Scarlett that he knew and who had just professed the same kind of undying love to him would hold on to it as unrelenting.

"No I don't see. Don't you want to… to marry me?"

"I'm going to marry Melanie. Father is to announce the engagement tonight. I should have told you, but I thought you knew…" He looked at her apologetically though there was a distinct finality to his words.

She raised her head, ready for the impending battle, the meek confused lamb of seconds before rapidly retracting. Rhett had been on the receiving end on latches from her following such a change, too many times not to recognise the danger signs. Poor Ashley Wilkes, he probably didn't know what was in store for him.

"But you just said you cared for me." Her voice was still trembling a bit, but the hard stubborn undertone was there none the less present.

"My dear, must you make me say things that will hurt you?"

Scarlett stiffened, and so did Rhett. He didn't really remember this part of the conversation as clearly.

"How can I make you see these things, my dear"

"I know I love you." She held on to the mantra that she still hoped would be her saviour and key to happiness.

"Love isn't enough to make a successful marriage when two people are as different as we are. You would want all of a man, Scarlett, his body, his heart, his soul, his thoughts. And if you did not have them, you would be miserable…" Rhett was surprised to recognise, albeit in a softer wrapping, his own words from that fateful night of drunken insanity he had spent with his wife in what felt like a different lifetime.

"Do you love her?" Her voice interrupted his musings

"She is like me, part of my blood, and we understand each other. Scarlett! Scarlett! Can't I make you see that a marriage can't go on in any sort of peace unless the two people are alike?" Again Rhett was surprised to recognise himself and his own arguments in Ashley's reasoning; he felt a new found respect for the gentleman, though it would never be enough to banish his long standing contempt for the man. After all it seemed they were more alike than he had anticipated.

"But you said you cared."

"I should not have said it, it was wrong, for I knew you wouldn't understand. But Scarlett of course I care for you, how could I not? You who have all the passion for life that I have not? You, who can love and hate, with a violence impossible to me?"

Scarlett's temper flared, she didn't care to hear his soft spoken excuses. The hurt of rejection stung too badly for her to see reason. Though these words were some of the ones she would later bring out to nurture the flame of love she still harboured for this man, and the belief that the feelings where reciprocated despite Ashley's rejection of her. The en-caged husband sensed this, though from what exactly he didn't know, and his new found respect for Ashley crumpled. When he understood so much about the single minded way the green eyed temptress in front of him's brain worked, then why had he not seen that even such an indistinct compliment was something she would hold onto.

"Why don't you say it, you coward! You're afraid to marry me! You'd rather live with that stupid little fool who can't open her mouth except to say 'Yes' or 'No' and raise a passel of mealy-mouthed brats just like her!"

"You must not say these things about Melanie!"

"'I mustn't! Be damned you! Who are you to tell me what I must or mustn't do? You coward, you cad, you... You made me believe you were going to marry me..."

"Be fair," his voice pleaded. "Did I ever..?"

She jumped back from him her angry eyes blazing at him, failing to see the mute misery in his face. The mute misery of one forced to face realities when reality is naught but agony to them.

"Scarlett... please..."

Ashley stretched out one white slender hand towards her, a gesture not even acknowledged by the slender woman in all her rage. Instead she slapped him. Slapped him across the face with all the strength she had in every bone of her small body. The noise cracked like a whip in the still room. Leaving her deflated. She stood panting in front of him, the angry flame in her eyes slowly dying down, until it went out completely. Despair written clearly in all her features. Her arms hanging limp at her side.

He said nothing but lifted her limp hand to his lips and kissed it. His lips cool against her burning skin. Then he was gone before she could speak again, closing the door softly behind him. Letting in the bright light for a second, before the room again wrapped itself in the reigning gloom.

She slumped down in a nearby chair, exhaustion seeping through her every limp. He who sat within felt it clearly, feeling her presence retreat, leaving more room for him.

He had been left paralysed by the last outburst, it had all been happening to fast for him to react or reflect. Now he just felt empty. He hadn't been able to change this first step on the path that seemed to just lead him right back to the place where he had just come from. Would he be doomed to repeat this decade over and over again? Ending with the same all compassing misery time after time?

Scarlett's defeat only lasted the shortest minute, she raised her head, jutted her chin, refusing to admit defeat. Frustrated at how wrong her plan had gone, and how the images from this afternoon would haunt her forever. She had acted in the most ridiculously forward way, making a fool of herself in front of everyone. In this moment she was sure that all at the party were secretly laughing at her for throwing herself at so reluctant a suitor. She wanted to scream, as it was the only outlet of her frustration that she could think of.

"Damn Ashley Wilkes and his bloody high and mighty notions, damn them all" her hand on its own accord sought out a small porcelain bowl. It had until moments before fulfilled its destiny as a quiet observant of life around it, starring idly at life as it passed it by. But, for the sudden urge of a girl crushed in love, it would have stayed in that semi existence perhaps forever. Now however it was picked up by slender fingers.

"Damn you" For the second time within a very short time-frame Scarlett O'Hara channelled all her strength into one arm, and flung the ornamental bowl across the room where it met its untimely demise as it made contact with the marble white surface of the empty fireplace. It shattered in a thousand pieces giving an odd satisfaction both to Scarlett and to Rhett Butler who was locked within her body. The simple physic activity instantly breaking the spell of gloom that had threatened to overtake the latter as he had contemplated an eternity spent within this body, going over the same events countless times. He dismissed the thought; fate would not be that cruel to him he decided. No matter how many deeds he had done that deserved little praise, surely it was not enough to be doomed to a fate such as that. He would have preferred Sisyphus task of rolling his stone any day!

"This," said a voice, that the elder Rhett Butler immediately recognised as his own, from the depths of the sofa, "is too much."

So caught up had he been in his inner musings that he momentarily had forgotten the next part of the scene, the part which had been the one he had really cherished for so long, and had been what initially had sparked his obsession with one green eyed girl.

His breath got caught in his throat; he wondered which would be the worst part of the day. Hearing his wife profess her undying love for another man, or having to battle with himself? The world went blurry for a moment as he felt the blackness of a fainting spell pull at him with enticing promises of oblivion.

"It is bad enough to have an afternoon nap disturbed by such a passage as I've been forced to hear, but why should my life be endangered?"

His own voice pulled him back from the alluring promise of peace, and everything went back into focus.

He lifted his head, and met the boring glance of the stranger that was no stranger to himself. To laugh or to cry, that was the question.

"Sir, you should have made known your presence." Scarlett's body and mind sprang to life, her voice clearly showing the surprise she felt.

"Pray tell me why?" The elder Rhett looked at himself as his younger self's lips split in a broad smile, barring the white teeth that he had always been so proud of. His dark daring eyes held an unspoken challenge.

It was strange to see himself as he had looked then, up close and alive, not just frozen in a painting or a photograph. He couldn't help but admire his looks, even now in this strange stressed situation he had to admit that he was, or at least had been a very handsome man. He knew that he over the last few months in his future existence had let himself go. He had just stopped caring when all he held dear had faded from the world.

Looking into the black eyes that he knew so well, yet felt were utterly foreign he wondered, would you like to know? If I could find a way to tell you what life has in store for you, would you be able to change it? Would you run away? Would you be able to make her see your love, our love before it is too late?

"You, Miss O'Hara – I am sorry to be so bold as to assume knowledge of your name without proper introduction - were the intruder. I found myself in the situation that I was forced to wait for Mr. Kennedy, and as I was feeling that I was perhaps persona non grata amongst your devoted friends, I was thoughtful enough to remove my unwelcome presence to this place where I thought I would be undisturbed. But, alas!" he shrugged and laughed softly, his voice smooth and polished.

Rhett did not know how to respond to himself in that instance, but as he felt the boiling temper of said Miss O'Hara rise again, ready for yet another colourful eruption, he guessed that he did not have to worry. He felt the colour rise in his cheeks, felt the mortification she felt at having been overheard in such a non too flattering situation as the one she had recently put herself in. It was bad enough that she had said those things to Ashley, even as she now regretted her forwardness. Worse than that was the shame she felt in the knowledge that somebody else, a stranger, THIS stranger had been a shadowy presence to her fall from grace. It was unbearable.

"Eavesdroppers..." she began furiously, almost spitting out the words in fiery frustration.

"Eavesdroppers often hear highly entertaining and instructive things," he grinned. "From a long experience in eavesdropping, I..."

In a way he wanted to warn himself. Warn him that even if all he felt in this moment for this green eyed girl was an intense curiosity and a strong overwhelming surge of lust, he would in the end be obsessed with her to such an extend that she would fill his every waken moment. It would grow until all he could see wherever he turned, awake or asleep, near her or away from her, was her face. Until he finally yielded and gave her his name as hers, and in the end broke him. Broke him to the extent so that he was unable to even recognise himself.

What if he had never seen her again after this encounter, would he have been able to forget her, could he have kept himself from seeking her out. He had often over the years mulled over the answer to this question, never been able to really give himself a proper answer to that question. Though seeing the light in his eyes now at the first encounter he doubted that he could have left the image of this remarkable woman behind. Perhaps it would be better to encourage himself to just get it over and done and drag Scarlett away from it all this very moment. Stealg her away to become his bride before she had endured the hardship that waited for her in her future. Of course that would only be a viable solution if he could somehow escape from the imprisonment in her body. One thing worse than being married to a Scarlett in love with Ashley Wilkes would definitely be to be married to himself as Scarlett O'Hara. He shuddered inwardly at the absurdity of the though.

Oblivious to what was going on beneath her dark locks Scarlett continued down their already trodden path.

"Sir," she said, "you are no gentleman!" A phrase she had shouted at him many a time over the course of their acquaintance, he inwardly smiled at re-hearing this first.

"An apt observation," he answered airily. "And, you, Miss, I must say are no lady." Rhett could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he was finding the situation very diverting, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth, mixed in with a hint of admiration at the woman in front of him, who didn't buckle and crumble, even in such a situation as would have many other women faint or falter shying away from the embarrassment.

He could feel how Scarlett wanted to hurl yet another insult at his younger self, but the person in mention was too quick and fired his next words before any words left her tongue.

"No one can remain a lady after saying and doing what I have just overheard. However, ladies have seldom held any charms for me. I know what they are thinking, but they never have the courage or lack of breeding to say what they think. And that, in time, becomes a bore. But you, my dear Miss O'Hara, are a girl of rare spirit, very admirable spirit, and I take off my hat to you. I fail to understand what charms the elegant Mr. Wilkes can hold for a girl of your tempestuous nature. He should thank God on bended knee for a girl with your - how did he put it? -'passion for living,' but being a poor-spirited wretch.."

"You aren't fit to wipe his boots!" she shouted in rage, forgetting herself she stomped nearer. Eyes blazing, cheeks a flame, bust heaving with indignation in the too low cut dress. Rhett could easily read in his own eyes, exactly the impression Scarlett in all her angry might made on him.

"And you were going to hate him all your life!" He struck up a devilish laughter that did nothing to calm the spitfire temper of the descendant of Irish kings. Regal however was perhaps not the most fitting description this very moment, as she looked decidedly ruffled from the emotional see saw she had been riding this day so far.

She lifted her hand for yet another singing slap to a gentleman's cheek that day. The young Rhett Butler, though, was too quick, and grabbed her by the wrist before finger flesh made contact with facial flesh.

"Oh no you don't" was his words as he stopped her mid-motion arm.

He watched in fascination as his junior self's eyes widened in surprise as his hand made contact with the bare skin of Scarlett's arm. The spark that shot between them was palatable. Their eyes met again for one intense second, he shuddered as he saw something unexpected stir in the black depths as they bore into his own green ones.

Scarlett, or was it himself, sprang backwards, pulse soaring. A puzzled experience clearly readable on her face.

She turned around and rapidly exited the room, trying to appear calm, trying to carry herself with the elegant dignity that her mother had instilled in her. Neither her nor her unknown interior intruder, knew exactly what had transpired in the library. Rhett couldn't help but wonder whether he really had seen what he thought he had seen.


End file.
